


210 Days

by cherrystreet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Army AU, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Happy Ending, Louis POV, M/M, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystreet/pseuds/cherrystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is in the army and Louis is back in New York. Together, they get through Harry's six month leave by sending a series of letters back and forth. They've done it before, and they can do it again.</p><p>---</p><p>  <a href="http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/144783558562/title-210-days-author-cherrystreet-previously">Tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	210 Days

**Author's Note:**

> [Based on this prompt!](http://larryfanfictionideas.tumblr.com/post/144517221761/hesaurora-someone-write-a-larry-army-au-but)

The sun is barely up yet, just starting to illuminate the sky, and normally, Louis is never awake so early. This particular morning, though, he’s already been up for several hours.

He arches his back up into Harry’s body, squeezing his eyes shut as Harry rocks into him, brushing against all the right spots. It’s a familiar pace, gentle and slow, and he’s able to feel every inch of Harry working inside of him. It’s the kind of sex he likes most after a night like last night, when Harry fucks into him so deep, he feels like he could stop breathing completely.

Louis realizes Harry is doing this on purpose, giving it to him exactly the way he loves best, because this is the last time they’ll be doing this for a  _ long _ time.

He can’t swallow.

He buries his head in Harry’s chest, clinging on tightly, breathing heavily, and he can’t hold back the choked out sob he unintentionally lets out. It doesn’t sound  _ that _ different from the noises he usually makes when Harry’s fucking him - at least, that’s what Louis thinks - but Harry seems to notice, anyway.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, movements still steady and perfect. “I’m sorry. I’m.”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and Louis doesn’t ask him to. Instead, he forces himself to think about how good it feels rather than the feeling of suffocation bubbling inside his chest.

It’s intoxicating, the way Harry can’t stop kissing up and down his jaw, breath hot on Louis’ neck. His hips never stop, working into Louis evenly, and when he forces Louis to extract his arm from around Harry’s neck to link their hands together, Louis can’t stop the tears that slip out.

“Don’t cry,” Harry murmurs, his own voice uneven. “Please don’t cry, baby.”

Louis can’t do anything but lay there and take it, Harry staring at him, touching him everywhere, and he feels the most vulnerable and exposed he’s ever felt. He manages to choke out, “I can’t stand the thought of you me leaving again.”

Harry slows his hips, pushing himself all the way in and stays there. Louis squirms around, clenching down, urging Harry to keep going. He hates the way Harry is looking at him, gaze unwavering. He needs him to just keep fucking him, to not stop, to never stop.

He bends down to kiss Louis slowly and purposefully, the taste on his tongue familiar. The kiss eases the weight on Louis’ chest for the moment.

Only a moment.

“If I had it my way, you know I wouldn’t be leaving,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ lips.

Louis wants to say  _ Then don’t fucking leave me. _ Instead, he grits out, “Last time you left, I almost died.”

Harry snorts, kissing him again briefly. “I try to forget how dramatic you get when I’m being deployed.”

“I try to forget, too.” He lifts his hips up, boding Harry to start moving again. “Can I ask you to stay?”

“That’s not fair.” Harry drops his forehead to Louis’ and starts thrusting into him again.

Louis hates how pathetic he sounds, feels. “I just miss you so much when you’re gone, and I’m always so worried about you, Christ.” He gasps when Harry angles his hips  _ just _ right.

“I worry about you too, Lou,” Harry says, kissing his temple. “You’re all I think about when I’m overseas, always miss you so fucking much.”

Louis starts tearing up again, can’t help it, and tries to cover his face with his hands, but Harry has a tight grip on his wrists. Even with every emotion and doubt and concern running through his mind, his stomach muscles start involuntarily clenching, white hot heat coiling in the pit of his belly. He can’t help it, not when Harry’s hips are relentless and his hands are touching all the right places.

Harry must be able to tell he’s close, because his movements gain momentum, his breathing picking up. “Come on, baby,” he whispers, staring right at Louis, unblinking. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

Louis bites down on his bottom lip and nods, shaking Harry’s grip to reach down to grip his cock, pumping himself into his fist quickly. “I know,” he groans. “Hate that you’re so good at fucking me, makes it harder to watch you leave.”

Harry’s breath stutters and he’s fighting back a laugh, Louis can tell. That makes him feel microscopically better. “Always have to fuck you right.”

So close. “No one’s ever fucked me like you do.”

“And no one ever will again.”

Louis comes, mind nearly spiraling with how good it is, eyes squeezed shut, and he doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Harry bends down to kiss him, full of emotion and fire.

Harry follows suit immediately, groan on his lips, body going lax against Louis’, and he pulls out slowly, barely giving Louis a second to breathe before he pulls him into his arms. “You’re so gorgeous, it drives me crazy,” Harry whispers against Louis’ hair.

Louis swallows heavily. “What am I gonna do without you for six months, treating me like the princess I am?”

Harry laughs. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

He shakes his head against Harry’s chest. “I don’t want to think of something. I just wanna keep you.”

“You have me.” He kisses the top of Louis’ head. “Just. Try. Okay? Be busy and don’t think about it and time will fly by. Half a year is nothing.”

Louis rolls his eyes, even though Harry can’t see him. “Oh, right, half a year. Piece of fucking cake. Totally nothing.”

“Baby.” He loosens his grip on Louis and slides down on the mattress, meeting his gaze. “You are brave and smart and everything  _ I _ want to be. You’re my rock when I’m gone, even when I can’t talk to you. Knowing you’re here waiting for me is what motivates me to keep going. You have to be strong for me, so that I can get through it and come home to you.”

Louis’ head hurts from trying and failing to hold back tears. “Okay. I’ll… For you.”

Harry has tears swimming in his own eyes. He grabs Louis’ hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “I love you so much, it hurts sometimes.”

Louis nods. He knows the feeling. “I love you, too.”

And then, Harry’s alarm goes off.

They’re out of time.  
  
  
  
The ride to the airport isn’t long enough.

There’s snow coming down around them, light and fluffy, not heavy enough to cause any real driving hazard. It’s cold outside, not a surprise for December in upstate New York, but Louis’ thigh is warm under Harry’s touch.

Louis traces his finger across Harry’s knuckles. “I can’t believe you won’t be here for Christmas. Or my birthday. Or like… Anything, really.”

He watches as Harry’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Please don’t make me feel guilty about it. It’s out of my control, Lou.”

“‘m not trying to make you feel guilty.” He looks out the window, and his breath fogs up the glass. “I just. Can’t believe it.”

“We got lucky last time. I only missed our anniversary. Was here for everything else.”

Louis hums. “And you’re sure you’ll be back for that this time?”

“Yes. I’ll be back two days before on June 13. Just enough time to get readjusted to the time difference and then wine and dine you.”

He smiles. “Wine and dine. I’m gonna remember that when you say you’re too tired to get out of bed and you refuse to get up.”

Harry smirks. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to motivate me.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You are disgusting. And probably right.”

They sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the way, Louis lacing their fingers together on his lap. This is one of those small things that he’s taken for granted, holding hands. He won’t be able to do this on the way to the grocery store or to Harry’s parents’ house or walking around the neighborhood…

Or ever again, if Harry doesn’t stay smart, stay safe.

Louis swallows heavily and squeezes Harry’s hand tighter. Signs for the airport are starting to pop up along the side of the highway. He isn’t ready. “You have to promise you’ll come home to me.”

Harry hesitates before he nods. “That’s the plan.”

“No. That’s not good enough. You need to promise me.”

He turns on the blinker and exits off the highway. “I  _ want _ to promise you.”

“Harry, this isn’t negotiable. You don’t get to leave if you can’t promise me you’ll come home.”

Harry nods again. “I’ll come home.”

“You’ll come home alive and in one piece.”

He sighs. “I’ll come home alive and in one piece,” he says, voice wavering. He slows the car, entering the airport terminal. “Lou, if something does happen though…”

“No.” Louis cuts him off, pushing his hand out of his lap, immediately changing his mind and grabbing for it again. “Not again. We’re not playing that game. We’re not playing the ‘if I die, you can find another partner’ game.”

“Louis, it’s not a fucking game!” Harry shouts, startling Louis. Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he nearly whips the car around the corner of the parking garage. “I’m fucking terrified, too, and you’re not helping acting like you’re the only one who’s going to be affected by this! It’s possible I could fucking die and you know it so quit it with your Goddamn whining and be an adult. And to play your fucking game, you have my fucking blessing to find a husband if I die. Jesus Christ.”

Louis’ eyes instantly fill up, and he’s completely and utterly embarrassed. It must read all over his face because Harry’s entire demeanor softens. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that wasn’t fair, I’m sorry.” Tear tracks streak his own pink cheeks and Louis leans over to wipe them away. “Help me find a parking spot, Lou. I have only 60 minutes before I board and I’m not leaving you like this, fuck.”

Louis nods and tries to speak over the lump in his throat. “Try level four.”

“Okay.”

The car climbs to the mostly empty level of parking and Harry pulls into a spot easily, throwing the car into park. He doesn’t bother to turn the ignition off before he leans over the console and grips Louis tightly, the material of his jacket bunched up in Harry’s hands. “I’m in love with you.”

Louis ducks his head into Harry’s shoulder. “I know,” he whispers.

“Good.”

They sit there, frozen, for not nearly long enough. Harry pulls back first and Louis wipes his eyes. “I’ll help you with your bags?”

Harry looks so, so tired. He hasn’t even  _ started _ yet, he isn’t allowed to be tired. That makes Louis worry. “Yeah, please.”

They climb out of the car, grabbing duffels bags, and when Harry locks the car behind them, Louis groans. “I hate your stupid uniform.”

Harry raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Because every time it’s on, it means you’re leaving me, but you look ridiculously hot in it. And now I’m conflicted.”

He barks out a laugh at that. “The next time you see me in it, I’ll be coming home to you, and I’ll probably still be hot.” He winks, and Louis laughs. “I’m not always wearing it  _ just _ to walk away.”

Louis hums, shrugging the bag over his shoulder. “Can’t wait for the day that you come home for good.”

Harry’s smile is a little lopsided. “This is my last tour. Six months and then I won’t leave you ever again for more than a weekend at a time.”

“Music to my ears.”

They make their way across the garage and down the elevator, getting stopped twice by strangers thanking Harry for his service. He politely chats for a moment and Louis resists the urge to shove Harry off of the elevator. He just wants to get this over with. Rip the band-aid off, if you will. Hug, kiss, goodbye, see you in six months, and watch the seconds tick by on his watch to prove to himself that time is, indeed, moving forward and that he’s a second closer to seeing his boy again.

Actually, he’d rather break his watch, force the second hand to stop ticking, and freeze in this moment forever so he never has to let go, never has to watch his boy walk away, shoulders broad and hands steady.

The terminal lights are blinding and Louis feels like every set of eyes is on him and Harry. He knows they don’t have enough time for much stalling, but he tries anyway. “Wanna get a coffee? Dunkin Donuts is open.”

Harry looks up at the clock above them. “Baby, I only have about eight minutes.”

There are a number of things Louis wants to say in those eight minutes. He wants to scream how badly he hates this, how hard it is for him, even though he knows it’s selfish. He wants to tell Harry to not be a fucking idiot and get himself hurt, because Louis can handle a lot of things, but the idea of Harry wounded in another part of the world, inaccessible, is something he absolutely  _ cannot _ deal with. It makes his palms sweaty just thinking about it. He wants to tell Harry how gone he is for him, how much he loves him, how knowing him and loving him has made him a better person, but eight minutes most definitely isn’t enough for that.

Instead, he settles with, “Okay, let’s make these eight minutes count.”

They sit at an empty table just before security, hands intertwined. Harry reminds Louis that the oil company will be at their house on January 4th, that their cat Zoe needs more heart worm medication, that the snowblower is on the fritz again, so to be careful when turning it on.

He also tells Louis how crazy he is about him, and Louis doesn't like the finality in his tone, how it sounds like a permanent goodbye.

He nods, pretending that he’s fully listening, when really, he’s just repeating in his own mind over and over to just breathe, to not cry, to focus on what Harry looks like right in this moment, because this is the last live image he’ll have of him for six months.

Harry keeps going. “I left your birthday and Christmas presents with Niall. Don’t harass him for them.”

Louis pouts. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Louis.”

“Fine, I’ll leave your precious Niall alone.”

Harry smiles. “He’ll appreciate that.” He drags his thumb across Louis’ knuckles. “I have two minutes.”

Louis clears his throat. “I have some things to remind you, too.”

He nods. “Shoot.”

“Pun intended, I would assume.” Harry shrugs and Louis rolls his eyes. God, he’s going to miss him  _ so _ much. “Don’t forget to take pictures. I want to be able to see where you live.”

“I can do that.”

“And I know I say I want you to use your weekly phone call on me, but please call your mom once in a blue moon.”

“I’ll call my mom. I’ll probably call yours, too.”

“Letters. Harry, I want letters from you. I know you’ll be busy, but please, I need letters from you.”

Harry furrows his brow. “Of course, baby. I want them from you, too, you know.”

“I already plan to bombard you with so many, you’ll be able to burn them all in a fire and the sheer volume of them will keep you warm for a week. But don’t do that because I’ll be pissed at you.”

He laughs. “I would never.”

“And just… Don’t get hurt, okay?” Louis tries to hide the tremor in his voice, but he fails, and Harry is standing up and pulling Louis into his arms before he even knows what’s happening. Harry’s heart is beating like crazy underneath Louis’ touch. “Please promise to be safe. I need you to be safe and healthy and you  _ cannot _ leave me. I know you’ll be okay, but I need you to promise, anyway.” He pushes himself impossibly further into Harry’s embrace, tears unstoppable now. “And we’re gonna have an anniversary to celebrate when you get back and I am  _ not _ celebrating it alone.”

Louis doesn’t look up when Harry forces out a watery laugh. “I will do everything in my willpower to stay safe for you, Louis Tomlinson.”

He  _ doesn’t _ cry even harder at that. “I love you so Goddamned much.”

Harry shakes. “Fuck, I love you too, Lou.”

It’s probably been longer than two minutes, but Louis can’t be bothered to care when Harry is suddenly kissing him like this, his hands cupping his jaw and his sturdy body covering his own. He doesn’t want to pull away - can’t, really - and he only whines twice when Harry finally breaks their contact, own eyes misty.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” Harry whispers against Louis’ lips.

“Okay.” He kisses Harry again and forces himself to pull back before he gets too carried away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He helps Harry hoist his duffel bag over his shoulder and takes a step back to look at him. “My boyfriend is hot.”

Harry laughs. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Louis surges up to kiss him one more time and steps back when he feels like he could choke. “Be safe, H. Please.”

“I will.” He scrunches up his face. “Jesus, I already miss you.”

Louis nods.  _ That _ he gets. “I know. I fucking know. I miss you, too.” Deep breath. Inhale, exhale. When did breathing become something he had to focus on? “I’ll see you in 182 days.”

“I’m counting down already.”

“Bye, babe.”

Harry looks pained. “Bye, Lou. I’ll see you soon.”

Louis nods again. “So soon.” He’s trying not to break.  _ Harry, just turn around. Go. _

“So soon,” he repeats. Finally, he takes a step back from Louis. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Are you really?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Yes. Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Love you.”

“Love you so much.” He kisses Louis one more time, swiftly on the lips, and with that, he saunters off.

Louis watches him go through security until it’s too much. He nearly runs back to the car, hands shaking, grateful no one is stopping  _ him _ to thank him for his service, and he doesn’t bother to turn the heat on when he turns on the ignition, face already flushed and entire body overheated.

He closes his eyes when he realizes Harry fucked with the adjustment of his seat. It’s pushed too far back and Louis can’t reach the pedals. He lets his head fall back against the headrest and doesn’t try to stop himself from crying.

Fuck.

182 days. But who’s counting, really?

 

* * *

_  
December 16 _

_ Dear Lou, _

_ It’s weird that it’s so hot out just before Christmas. Is this what it would feel like to live in Texas? If that’s the case, we’re never moving. December is meant to have snow. Not endless miles of sand. I’m sure you would agree with me. Santa might, too. I can’t imagine this would be good for the reindeer. _

_ So far, it’s been crazy boring here. I think I forgot how much downtime I have when I’m overseas. There are a lot of nice people here, though. Do you remember Liam from my last tour? He’s here again with me. His wife just had a baby two months ago. Little boy. His pictures are really cute. It’s nice to have someone familiar here, even though he’s constantly moping that he’s missing out on so much back home. Poor Li. _

_ I’ve only been here for about three days, so there isn’t much to say and not much has changed other than how much I miss you. _

_ I hope this makes it to you by your birthday. Have a beautiful day, baby, and pretend you can hear my horrible rendition of “Happy Birthday” even though we’re not together. And enjoy your gifts at Zayn’s house. I’m sure you already figured out Niall doesn’t have them and he was a decoy. _

___179 days._  
  


_ I love you. _

_ Your soldier _

 

* * *

_  
December 25 _

_ H, _

_ Your letter made it just in time. I got it last night. Thank you, babe, I love my presents. Especially the camera. You’re going to get so many naked pictures of me. Merry Christmas to us all. _

_ And you’re right. I figured out Niall didn’t have them about 12 seconds after your plane took off. I drove directly to Zayn’s but that son of a bitch had his closet locked. I didn’t even know closets  _ had _ locks. _

_ I remember last time you were gone and you asked me to describe day-to-day stuff, so you could feel like you were experiencing it with me. Do you want me to do that again? I will. _

_ For my birthday, your mom and Gemma stopped by in the morning with a cake and then took me out to breakfast. I got that French toast thing you like so much. I was so happy I didn’t have to share it with you. _

_ Wish you were here to share it with. _

_ I stopped by Zayn’s after that to pick up my Harry presents and Niall met us there. We didn’t stay long, though. Mom wanted me at her house for dinner. I ended up spending the night there. I didn’t feel like going home to an empty house on my birthday and waking up on Christmas alone. It was nice to spend so much time with the girls. _

_ I feel like this is all really boring. This is all such mundane shit that I wouldn’t even bother telling you if you were here, never mind wasting a letter on it when you’re across the world and I won’t be seeing you until June. Sorry. _

_ I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I hope your Christmas wasn’t too shitty. _

_ 170 days. _

_  
Love, _

_ L  
_

 

* * *

_  
January 1 _

_ H, _

_ Happy New Year! _

_ I’m really fucking hungover. Come home and make me eggs and pancakes. Niall doesn’t make them as good. He sucks. _

_ I loved hearing your voice the other day. A 30 minute phone call was definitely not enough, but I’ll take what I can get. You sounded good, Harry. That makes me happy. I’m relieved you’re doing okay so far. _

_ Guess what? I’m doing okay so far, too. The bathroom is really messy and I have, like, 14 loads of laundry to do, but I’m okay. _

_ Work is keeping me really busy. We have a new student set to start after the winter break. She’s from somewhere in Ohio and apparently has an IEP so thick, it’s going to take me a week just to read it all. _

_ Nothing like starting off the new year with a 9-year-old who can’t yet read. Prayers are encouraged. _

_ Tell me more about where you live. If you can’t send me pictures, at least describe it. I want to know! _

_ 163 days. _

_  
Love you, miss you, _

_ L _

__

* * *

_  
January 18 _

_ Dear Lou, _

_ I knew you would be okay. You never listen to me. _

_ But in all honestly, I’m glad. I’m always worried about you. Knowing you’re busy and happy is a huge relief to me. It’ll help me sleep at night. (Probably not. We hardly sleep, anyway. Going from a tempurpedic mattress to this shit bunk might be the worst part so far. I jokingly told Liam and Brett that. Now they call me Princess. It’s great.) _

_ I can’t disclose a whole lot to you about where I am, which drives me mad, but I can show you pictures when I get home. Just know it’s close quarters and it’s so hot, I feel like I could pass out half the time. Especially when I’m in this uniform. Which is essentially every minute of the day. _

_ Happy to know you spent Christmas with your mom and the girls. Christmas here was tame. We didn’t do much. Kind of just hung out and took our time with the gifts we had here. Thank you, baby, for the presents, by the way. I love the leather bound journal, especially. It’s gorgeous and I’ve spent a lot of time writing in it when I’m alone. I’ll let you read it when I come home. I’ve been taking pictures to go with the words. It’ll give you an honest insight of where I live and what I’ve been experiencing. I can’t wait to show you. _

_ I’m sorry we only had 10 minutes on the phone together over the holiday. Mom and Gemma wanted to hear from me, too, and they took forever. You know how they are. _

_ I do miss them, though. _

_ I’m  _ not _ sorry I wasn’t home to take care of your hungover ass. Learn to make pancakes. It isn’t that hard. And do the laundry. If I come home to a mountain of dirty clothes, I will throw them all in the garbage. You’re a brat. _

_ My brat. _

_ Tell me more about the new girl in your class. You’ve never had an issues with new students before, regardless of learning disabilities. You’ve probably already got her settled, I’m sure. _

_ And don't apologize for your day-to-day stuff! I truly love hearing about it. I can imagine we’re sitting, eating dinner, and you're telling me all about your typical Tuesday. Don't stop. _

___How many more days? 146. We can do it. Can’t wait to kiss you. I love you so, so much._  
  


_ I’ll see you soon, _

_ Your Soldier _

 

* * *

_  
January 23 _

_ H, _

_ HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I’m sending this a week early, hoping it’ll get to you in time. It’d better. Otherwise I’ll blow up the establishment. _

_ Probably shouldn’t say that in a letter being sent to someone in the US Army… I’m joking, government. I would never do anything. I’m too weak for that. And I’m not even sure how to hold a gun. _

_ But really. Deliver these gifts on time. _

_ ANYWAY. You have packages from me, my mom, your mom, Niall, Z, Gemma, my girls, and what feels like a thousand other people. Why does everyone like you? You’re not all that great. _

_ Enjoy the naked photos of me, courtesy of your camera. (Did you think I was joking when I said I would use it for this purpose?) And I apologize to any official who may have seen these photos before they were delivered to you. Actually. I’m not that sorry. Look at my ass. It’s fantastic. _

_ Do they really go through your mail? _

_ The new girl in my class. Her name is Hannah. She’s a sweet girl, but is definitely struggling. I’ve been spending a lot of time after school with her, trying to get her to catch up. It’s helping, the extra one-on-one time. Hopefully, by the time you get back, she’ll be up to a second grader’s reading level instead of a preschooler’s. _

_ Still accepting prayers. _

_ I’m  _ very _ excited that our next phone call date lands on your actual birthday. I’ll talk to you then, babe. _

___141 days!_  
  


_ I love you. _

_ L _

 

* * *

  
It’s nine in the morning on February first when Louis’ cell phone starts ringing.

His alarm was set for seven, just to be sure, but he’s been up since quarter past five, anyway. His phone is nearly locked in his hand, and he’s tried to be patient, waiting, eager to hear Harry’s voice and sing out a very off-key version of “Happy Birthday” loudly and stupidly.

Louis answers the call immediately, and almost shouts out, “Yes, I accept the charges,” and waits impatiently for the familiar voice on the other end of the line to speak.

A few crackly noises come through the phone. Then: “Hi, Lou.”

He sinks down further into the pillows, gripping the blankets in his hand. “Good morning, H.”  
  
“Evening here. We’re getting ready for dinner.”

Louis nods. “Just pretending you’re here.”

“Yeah.”

Harry doesn’t sound like he usually does. His voice sounds tired and rundown, his energy completely drained. Louis clears his throat. “Happy birthday, babe.”

“Oh. Is today the first?”

Louis tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yes, H,” he says slowly. “Today you’re 25.”

“Guess I wasn’t really paying attention.”

This isn't normal, not normal for Harry. “Did you get your presents?”

“Uh, yeah. I just haven’t opened them yet.”

Louis blinks. “Harry… Are you okay?”

Harry pauses. “Not really.”

He sits up in bed, letting the blanket pool around his waist. “What’s going on?”

“Jared’s gone.”

Louis wracks his brain desperately to try to remember who Jared is. He doesn’t recall Harry ever mentioning him on the phone, and he frantically reaches for Harry’s letters in the bedside table drawer, skimming each one for the name Jared.

Nothing.

He treads lightly. “What happened?”

Harry is silent for a full 20 seconds, and Louis wants to scream that they don’t have time to stall, that he needs to speak  _ now. _

But he knows better.

“I don’t know,” Harry murmurs, choking up. “He wasn’t careful enough. It’s like he forgot all of the training we’ve had. He just…” He pauses to take a deep breath. “He went into a building he knew it wasn’t secure and they got him.”

Louis doesn’t bother asking who “they” are, or how he died. “Harry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Fuck, it’s just gross, you know? He has a three-year-old son at home. It’s like…” He starts to cry, and Louis does, too.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Louis whispers into the phone, watching the time on the clock tick by steadily. He can’t fix this, especially not in the remaining 14 minutes. The idea of leaving Harry to deal with this makes him sick to his stomach.

“He was so smart. Brilliant, actually. And he made one stupid decision.” Harry’s breathing is still choppy. “What if it’s me next time?”

Louis suddenly understands Harry’s emotion and squeezes his eyes shut, tears spilling out, anyway. “It won’t be you.”

“But how do you know?”

Louis knows that any answer he gives will be inadequate; he knows Harry doesn’t expect him to ease the demons in his mind. He wants to try, though. “I have fear every single day that you won’t come home to me. I wake up with knots in my stomach that this is the day, the day I have to receive that fucking phone call.” Deep breaths. “But I know it’s all in my head. Do you really think I would have stayed with you if I had any doubt that you wouldn’t make it out alive?” He stops to clarify, knowing how poorly worded that sounds. “I met you after you were already enlisted. I could have said, ‘Okay, this was nice, but I’m not trying to involve myself with someone who’s in the service. It’s scary and I don’t think I can handle it.’ But I didn’t have to say that. Because even after the first 24 fucking hours of knowing you, it was obvious how strong and smart and brave you are. I know, deep down, that I don’t have to worry about you there. You take care of yourself, and then when you come home, we take care of each other. I  _ know _ you won’t be next, Harry. I know.”

Harry breathes heavily through the receiver, the only indication that the call hasn’t cut out. Louis hears him swallow. “I want to come home.” He never admits that, never lets himself crack under pressure or emotion, especially when Louis is present and on the verge of a breakdown himself. “I miss you so much, Lou.” His voice stutters when he says Louis’ name.

Louis rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand until he sees swirls and stars and nameless shapes. “I miss you, too.” He does some quick math in his head. “133 days.”

“133 days,” Harry repeats. He pauses. “Can you, like, tell me just some more regular stuff going on? It helps.”

“Of course.” He taps his finger on his knee, trying to think of something that’s actually worth wasting their final three minutes. “Oh! Tonight, Niall and Z and I are gonna go out for drinks. To celebrate the birth of you.”

Louis can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. “To Callahan’s?”

“Where else would we go?”

“Will you do karaoke for me? Pick something horrible. And then make sure someone records it. That’s the first thing I wanna see when I come home.”

“You’d rather see a video of me drunk and dancing before you see me in real life.”

“I thought that went without saying.”

Louis smiles. “Okay, because it’s your birthday, I’ll get drunk and sing Christina Aguilera and I’ll make sure Zayn records it. I promise.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” He sighs. “Fuck, I have to go. I love you, okay? I just. I love you so much.”

Louis nods. “I love you.”

The line clicks off.  
  
  
  
True to his word, Louis gets positively hammered that night with Niall and Zayn by his side. Around midnight, he takes the stage, beer in one hand, microphone in the other.

“This is for my soldier boy,” he slurs into the mic.

Niall whistles; Zayn pounds his fists on the bar top.

While Louis would like to think he performed his rendition of “Genie in a Bottle” perfectly, the video he watches back in the morning proves otherwise.

Harry will love it.

That’s worth the splitting headache and blackmail.

 

* * *

  
The first night Louis met Harry was at Callahan’s, and it’s Harry’s favorite story to tell, as much as Louis hates it.

It was a costume birthday party for Zayn. He wanted to wear a some superhero costume but didn’t want to wait until Halloween, the fucking nerd, so he told everyone invited that they wouldn’t be let into the bar if they weren’t dressed up.

Louis wore a red and white long sleeved striped shirt, a beanie, blue jeans, and his regular prescription glasses. Zayn, completely decked out in a Batman suit, scoffed when he saw Louis make his way into the bar.

“You didn’t dress up, you asshat!”

Louis looked down. “Yes, I did. I’m Waldo.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Louis, I’m pretty sure you wore this outfit last week.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I wanted to give you a taste of what was to come for this rager of a celebration.” He slipped out of his winter jacket and tossed it to Zayn. “But more accurately, I’m broke and didn’t want to spend money on a costume,  _ especially _ when there aren’t any costumes stores open this time of year. It’s fucking  _ January, _ Zayn. What were you thinking?!”

A crowd of people entered through the front doors, surrounding Louis, crowding him completely. Zayn smirked. “Oh, darn, it looks like I’ve lost him. Where’s Waldo?”

“Oh, ha ha, you’re hysterical.”  
  
  
  
As the night progressed, Louis continued to get drunker and drunker. He hung onto Niall for balance, other hand gripping a shot glass that never seemed to run out, and when he tipped his head back to swallow yet another round of tequila, he noticed two men dressed as soldiers near the entrance.

Or maybe it was one guy. Louis couldn’t be sure. His vision was completely blurred.

No, it was definitely two separate humans. He watched as one made his way to the bar and the other stalled by the door, looking around.

He was cute. Really, really cute.

“Hey, Niall,” Louis said, poking Niall in the face.

Niall swatted his hand away. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. He’s cute,” he said, gesturing toward the door, almost falling over.

“Tell him, not me.”

“But who  _ is _ he?”

Niall huffed out a laugh. “Go over there and talk to him, you idiot.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Once I figure out how to use my legs again.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

Louis furrowed his brows. “Walking is  _ hard. _ ”

Niall ignored him and went back to talking to Ryan and Em. Jerk.

He was still contemplating how to regain balance without holding onto Niall’s shoulder when the soldier was suddenly in front of him.

He smiled. “I found you.”

“What?” Then he remembered. “Oh, because I’m Waldo. How marvelously clever. That is the worst fucking pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

Soldier boy laughed. “I thought it was worth a shot, to see if it worked.” He cleared his throat. “Did it?”

“No, it didn’t, but your  _ dimples _ are working, Jesus.” He reached out and stuck his finger in one,  _ way _ too drunk to flirt - or function - like a normal human being.

He laughed again. “Those are always my backup plan.”

Louis was unable to stop himself when he put his hands on Harry’s chest, then, partly for balance, partly to feel what was going on underneath his costume. What he can feel is  _ nice. _ “So, what do I call you?” He traces his finger along the name tag. “Sergeant? Lieutenant? Private? Colonel?”

Soldier boy smirked. “Harry is fine. Harry Styles.”

“Pretty fancy that you got your name embroidered on this very official looking costume for a party, Harry Styles.”

Harry raised a brow. “Well, I like to be fancy.”

“I’ll say.”

“So, you can call me Harry Styles. What can I call you?”

Louis cocked his hip and readjusted his glasses. “‘m Louis. Tomlinson.”

“Well, Louis Tomlinson, I would ask you if you wanted me to get you a drink but… I think you have that covered,” Harry said, gesturing to the array of various emptied bottles and glasses on the table beside him.

“Wouldn’t say no to a rum and Coke from the cute soldier.” Hiccup.

“I can do that.”

Louis watched Harry head to the bar, standing beside his soldier buddy, grabbing the bartender’s attention. “Psst. Niall.”

Niall sighed. “What, Lou.”

“He’s very pretty,” he slurred.

“I think you’ve already said that.”

“No, I said he was  _ cute. _ But now I think he’s  _ pretty, _ too.”

“That’s great.”

“I know.”

“Awesome.”

Harry sauntered back over, then, balancing several shots and drinks on a tray along with Louis’ rum and Coke. Louis grabbed his drink off the tray and took four long sips. “Good. Very good. Thanks, Harry Styles.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “You’re welcome, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis swirled his drink around. “So, how do you know my Zaynie?”

“I assume you’re talking about Zayn.”

“Duh.”

Harry smiled. “My friend Andrew is friends with him. We actually just got back from boot camp a few hours ago, and he told us we should stop by here first before we headed home.”

“Wow, elaborate backstory to go with that costume,” Louis said, tracing the letters on Harry’s embroidered name tag again. “So, what is it that you do?”

Harry’s sucked in his cheeks. “Um. You're not… Do you think…”

“Think what?”

He cleared his throat. “You know this isn’t actually a costume, right? That I’m really in the US Army and this is my uniform.”

“Right, and I’m really Waldo. Ask me what I do for work.”

Harry looked impossibly amused. “What is it that you do for work?”

“I stand still amongst thousands of people who are similarly dressed like me and wait for children to point me out.”

Harry burst out laughing. “Louis! I’m seriously in the army! Look.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos until he landed on a picture of him and Andrew, both looking incredibly solemn, standing side by side in what appears to be a type of boot camp or training arena.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Photoshop.”

Harry threw his hands in the air, drink sloshing everywhere. “Fine. I give up. This is my costume.”

“I  _ know. _ ”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Zayn walked over then, Batman cape swishing behind him. “Hey! Harry! Really glad you and Andrew could make it. How was boot camp?”

Harry shrugged. “Tough. It seemed like it was going to be impossible at the beginning, but the eight weeks flew by. Especially when they let me come home for Christmas. My mom was beside herself.”

“I’ll bet. When do you ship out again?”

“Not until September, actually. So I’ve got some time off.”

“That’s good!”

“Wait.” Louis held up his hands, swaying a bit. He looked at Harry and pointed at Zayn. “You got  _ Zayn _ in on this?! This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

Zayn looked perplexed, understandably. “What are you talking about? Harry’s in the army. How is that confusing?”

Louis stamped his foot. “He’s not in the army! This is a  _ costume _ party. Or did you forget?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “Louis, I swear. I’m in the army. This isn’t a costume. I’m not lying to you. How could I lie to a face like yours?”

Louis blushed, embarrassed, endeared. “I’m gonna need another shot.”  
  
  
  
Whenever Harry retells this story, he  _ always _ ends it with, “No, I’m serious! He thought it was a costume! He had no idea I was really in the army!”

“Harry, I was positively  _ wasted _ ,” Louis always says.

“Baby, it’s okay that you can’t tell the difference between a Halloween costume and a genuine army uniform. It’s not like it’s my livelihood, or anything.”

And Louis hits him on the chest every single time without fail.

 

* * *

_  
February 10 _

_ Baby, _

_ That phone call on my birthday… Louis, you have no idea how much that has helped me. Whenever I have doubt or I struggle, I remember your words and your voice and I’m okay. How do you do it? You’re taking care of me from so far away in a single 30-minute phone call. You’re unbelievable. _

_ I finally opened everyone’s gifts, and I have to say, the pictures were my favorite part, and not just because you were naked (mostly because you were naked). How is it possible that you manage to be the thing that keeps me sane and insane at the same time? _

_ I fucking miss you. _

_ I miss fucking you. _

_ Seriously. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. I fall asleep almost every night thinking of the way you look when you’re underneath me, or when you’re sucking me off. You’re so good at it. Too good at it. What the fuck. _

_ I’m not gonna make it here. Would it be deplorable if I took a bullet just so I can come home to taste you? _

_ By the time you get this, Valentine’s Day will be over, and I’ll probably have jerked myself to death. _

_ Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I’m thinking about you. _

___123 days._  
  


_ Love, _

_ Your soldier _

 

* * *

_  
February 25 _

_ H, _

_ Did you just… Attempt to have letter sex with me? Is this what the Amish do? _

_ I’m thinking probably not. They have morals and stuff. _

_ We do not. _

_ Whatever. I still got off thinking about you fucking into me, anyway. Thanks for the encouragement. _

_ I love you. I love your cock. _

_ I’m not apologizing for this letter. _

___108 days. Almost double digits!_  
  


_ Love, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
March 10 _

_ H, _

_ I want to give you an update on Hannah. _

_ It almost makes me tear up when I think about how well she’s doing. H, she’s so smart, but she’s never had anyone to be patient with her. I can’t believe it only took three months for her to be almost entirely caught up to the rest of her classmates. It’s astounding. _

_ It makes me so fucking proud of what I do, you know? Like, I’m partially responsible for her growth. I get to take some of the credit for her achievements and hitting such pivotal goals and that’s just… That’s all that matters. _

_ Turns out, part of the problem was she couldn’t see. I noticed she had a hard time focusing the further away from the front of the class she was, and she was complaining about frequent headaches, so I recommended she get her eyes checked. Apparently, she’s almost legally blind. Can you believe that? That her doctors and parents and past teachers have let that slip by, unnoticed? _

_ She picked out a pair of frames that are almost identical to mine. _

_ Hannah’s parents set up a conference with me last Monday. They wanted to go over her progress and see what else still needs to be done. We compared her scores from last year to now, and then looked at her progress from the time she transferred to us to where she is today. We talked about what else we think we can get done, and I told them I didn’t think she’d need to be held back a year like we originally thought, not at the rate she’s going. _

_ Harry, they were both so grateful. Her mom cried, saying it’s so hard to be constantly worried about your kid, thinking they’ll always be behind and will always be struggling, but when Hannah’s with me, she doesn’t have to worry about it so much. She feels relieved for the first time since Hannah started school. And her dad must have said thank you about a thousand times. _

_ I imagine this is what you feel like whenever someone thanks you for your service, kind of? It feels so good to have someone pull you aside and individually express their gratitude for what you’ve done for them. I’ve seen it happen to you hundreds of times, and I always wondered how it doesn’t get old for you. But I get it now. _

_ Harry. Thank you for protecting not only me, but our country. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that, but now I know how important it is. _

_ I’m in love with you. _

___95 days._  
  


_ Love, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
March 22 _

_ Louis, _

_ You are wonderful. You’re a wonderful teacher, boyfriend, person. Hannah isn’t the only one who’s lucky to have you. I’m so happy that you know that. _

_ I’m scheduled to come home just before school lets out for you guys. I’ll have to get in there one afternoon to meet her, and the rest of the gang. I can’t believe I didn’t make it in there once before Christmas. _

_ Funny, while you’re taking care of one little girl, I’m taking care of one of my own. _

_ That little girl is Liam. Stop fucking whining. _

_ This guy, I swear to god. I love him, I really do. He’s one of the most important people to me, seeing as he’s been with me through this twice now. One day, you’ll meet him. _

_ And I’m trying to be sensitive, I really am, because I know missing your baby must be agony, but my God. There’s only so much I can tolerate. _

_ LIAM. GO TAKE A WALK. YOUR SON DOESN’T KNOW HIS ASS FROM HIS HEAD, NEVER MIND THAT HIS FATHER IS GONE. _

_ (Don’t ever tell him that I wasted a letter to you complaining about him. He’d be crushed. And then he’d fight me. He got  _ seriously _ big between this tour and the last one.) _

_ Miss you. Proud of you. Love you too much. _

_ 83 days, baby. _

_  
Love, _

_ Your soldier _

 

* * *

_  
April 5 _

_ H, _

_ I love when you lose your patience. It makes you sound like an actual human being. I like that I’ve rubbed off on you. Remember when you used to be tolerable of everything? Ha. HAHA. _

_ I’m actually very excited to meet Liam. He lives in Colorado, right? We could totally take a trip there to visit him once school gets out for me. I’ve never been there and I would love to meet your war husband. _

_ Oh my God. I can’t believe I haven’t written this one time since you left: _

_ When will my husband return from war? _

_ I think Zoe has forgotten about you. She’s taken your side of the bed and looks mighty pleased with herself. _

_ Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about you, though. _

_ Not yet. _

_ Kidding. How could I ever forget your ugly face? _

_ Come home soon. I’m missing you like crazy lately. _

_ 69 days. _

___(Haha.)_  
  


_ Love, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
April 21 _

_ Dear Lou, _

_ I can’t believe you made me read a letter with my own two eyes that actually said my cat forgot about me. You’re, like, totally evil. What did I do to deserve that? Dick. _

_ Now I know how Liam feels. _

_ In all honesty, though, this week has been really rough. The springtime reminds me a lot of you, of falling for you. I’m reminded of you constantly during this season, even if it’s not a typical spring in this 107 degree desert, and it’s hard to focus on my job when you’re so far away. I’ve had a lot much downtime, too much downtime, so keeping my mind occupied hasn’t really been an option. And it’s not like I can complain to anyone here. We’re all in the same boat. Everyone is missing someone back home. _

_ I know our anniversary isn’t until June, but I fell in love with you in the spring. Did I ever tell you that? Sometime between that unbelievable snowstorm just after Zayn’s costume party and celebrating Mother’s Day with our moms, I realized you were it. Five months in and I was gone, completely done for. _

_ The first time I thought I loved you was about eight weeks in. We were out to dinner and you kept pretending like you didn’t want to hold my hand across the table but I knew you were just being Louis. And when we ordered dessert, I got chocolate cheesecake and you got hazelnut ice cream. I kept telling you not to order that because I knew you wouldn’t be happy with it and you told me to be quiet. When the dessert came, you whined and said, “Okay, you were right. You were totally right. Give me some cheesecake.” And I remember thinking how much of a pain in the ass you were, and that I was falling in love with you, even when you ate almost the entire slice of cheesecake. _

_ The first time I knew I was in love with you was right after you won those tickets to a Mets game in a raffle at work for Teacher Appreciation week. Remember? We spent the night booing the ugly players and seeing how high we could toss peanuts into the air and into our mouths before they started dropping on the people around us. And you were so obnoxious, screaming for hot dogs every time that poor vendor walked by us. And then around the sixth inning, you said, “Harry, I’ve gotta be honest, I really fucking hate baseball. The highlight of this entire thing was throwing peanuts at the bald guy four rows ahead of us.” You were completely dead serious, totally antsy to get out of that super uncomfortable chair. When I laughed, you told me to shut up and to go buy you another beer, but you were laughing, too, and that’s when I was sure, when I knew. _

_ The first time I told you I loved you wasn’t actually the first time you heard it. I don’t think I ever told you this, either. It was a hot morning during the first summer we were together and you were sitting on the couch, legs crossed, eating a bowl of cereal. Your hair was a mess and your glasses were smudged and you probably hadn’t even brushed your teeth yet, but I couldn’t help it. I told you I loved you, but you didn’t hear me, and I didn’t repeat myself. It just felt good to finally say it out loud, you know? _

_ There aren’t any rainstorms or flowers or fairs or shitty baseball games or ice cream shops here, so enjoy it all for me, okay? Enjoy our spring together and know that across the world, I’m still falling in love with you all over again. _

___53 days._  
  


_ All my love, _

_ Your soldier _

 

* * *

  
Louis remembers the baseball game  _ perfectly. _ He’d entered his name earlier that day in about 15 different raffles, crossing his fingers for the new iPad or $100 gift card to Target, and when his name was drawn for the Mets game, he pouted.

“Then why’d you bother entering?” his coworker Julia asked.

“Well, it’s better to win something than nothing,” he countered.

“Not if that  _ something _ is something you hate.”

Louis let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re right. I really fucking hate baseball.”

But, free tickets are free tickets, and he knew Harry would jump at the chance to do something new together.

Which, he did.

“Ah, Lou! That’s fun! We can wear matching jerseys.”

Louis made a horrified face. “I hope to God you’re kidding”

“I would  _ never _ kid about matching clothes.”  
  
  
  
Three days later, Louis and Harry sat 20 rows back behind the first base line, matching jerseys and all. Louis insisted on bringing several packages of Big League Chew so he could chomp rudely like the players, blowing bubbles every so often.

“You’re eight. You’re an actual eight-year-old. Blowing fucking bubbles out of bubblegum,” Harry said with an eye roll.

Louis responded by blowing a giant pink bubble right in his face.

They watched the game for a bit, or at least Harry did, and it was around the fourth inning that Louis started to get a little silly.

He poked Harry on the thigh. “Hey. Hey, Harry.”

“Shh, bases are loaded, I’m trying to focus.”

“Well,  _ I’m _ trying to focus on getting myself a hot dog. Hey!” he screamed over his shoulder, making Harry jump in his seat. “Hot dog over here!”

“Jesus Christ, Louis, when did you turn into a human megaphone?!”

“Over here!” he shrieked again, ignoring Harry, waving his arms over his head like a madman. He stood up and climbed over the row of fans, mumbling out, “Sorry, excuse me, sorry, I suck, excuse me,” until he reached the vendor, paying for four hot dogs.

And that’s when he spotted the peanut vendor and beer vendor, both halfway up the stairs.

He screamed for them, too, purchasing multiple bags of peanuts and as many bottles of beer as he could balance in his hands.

“Harry!”

Harry’s face was bright red, his cheeks sucked in. “Yes, Lou.”

“Come help me with all this junk!”

Harry sighed before he stood up and mumbled his own apologizes as he climbed over the same row of fans to help.  
  
  
  
Bless Harry’s heart, he played Louis’ stupid peanut tossing game for two full innings before Louis admitted he hated the whole concept of baseball, and Harry eventually asked him if he wanted to leave halfway through the eighth. Louis groaned out a  _ yes _ .

There was something else he wanted to do, anyway, considering the way Harry had been looking at him all night.

Harry pulled the car into the driveway, the wheels crunching under the gravel, the moon bright above them. Louis hopped out of the car, walking around to the side and met Harry, grabbing his hand.

“That game sucked.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t even know what the score was, or who won.”

“It still sucked.” He looped a finger through Harry’s necklace. “But it was fun.”

Louis watched as Harry swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Hey, wanna stay over?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly, eagerness written all over his face.

Louis laughed. “Good.”

They walked up the walkway, Harry linking their fingers together, and Louis was barely able to close the front door behind him before Harry pushed him up against the wall inside, kissing him.

Louis breathed into it, dragging his fingers into Harry’s hair, pulling him in closer. He listened as Harry’s own breathing grew sharper, his tongue sliding into Louis’ mouth, his hands roaming across Louis’ shoulders and back. And when Louis let his hands drop down, tangling his fingers back into Harry’s necklace, Harry immediately bowed down, pushing himself in closer up against Louis’ body.

He broke the kiss, still keeping his fingers intertwined in the chain, and leaned back to look up at Harry. “You’re…” He didn’t know where he intended to go with that statement, let it hang there.

“Yeah, baby,” Harry said, seeming to understand, anyway. He leaned down to kiss Louis again, impossibly deeper this time, and pried his hands off of Louis’ back, grabbing his hands instead. “Let’s go.”

Louis nodded, movements already slightly frantic. They moved to Louis’ bedroom slowly, Harry unable to stop kissing Louis every few feet, and by the time Louis kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, all he could think about was getting Harry inside of him.

He swallowed heavily and reached for the hem of Harry’s shirt, breaking out into a broad grin.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked, raising his arms to help.

“That I’m about to take off your shirt and it’s the exact same fucking shirt that I’m wearing. How embarrassing.”

Harry snorted. “Shut up and let me take your top off.”

“K.”

Louis fumbled with the button on Harry’s jeans in the dark until he got too frustrated and let Harry do it, both slipping out of all their clothes completely. He pushed Harry backward toward his bed and climbed on top of him, bending down to kiss up and down his neck, his jaw.

Harry groaned. “Want your mouth.”

Louis ground down against him. “What makes you think you call the shots?”

“What makes you think you can pretend you don’t like sucking me off?”

He rolled his eyes, hating that Harry always sees right through him. Because he was right. Louis  _ lived _ for the way big, strong, in control Harry nearly loses his damn mind the second Louis gets his mouth on his cock. He couldn't ever turn that down.

He shimmied off of Harry’s thighs, kissing down his chest, and didn’t bother with any preamble, immediately took Harry all the way down his throat, half hard and growing by the second.

Louis worked his mouth and fist over Harry expertly, the way Harry loved most, until Harry’s chest was heaving and his words of encouragement stopped making sense entirely.

“Can I fuck you? Yeah?” he asked desperately, eyes rolling to the back of his head once he saw Louis reach down to touch himself, too.

“Yeah, babe,  _ yes. _ ”

Harry sat up and rolled over, covering Louis’ body with his own. Louis didn’t bother paying attention when Harry grabbed the bottle of lube off of the nightstand; couldn’t be bothered when he was kissing him like  _ that, _ deep and too much teeth and not enough air.

Louis let him manipulate his body until he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think of anything other than Harry’s fingers, Harry’s cock, Harry’s lips, Harry. And when Harry got up to three fingers and brushed against the spot inside Louis that made his cock jerk involuntarily, he didn’t have to do more than yank on Harry’s hair, his pleading and begging swallowed by Harry’s mouth on his.

Harry didn’t ask Louis if he was ready before he started pushing himself into Louis’ body; over the past few months, he’d come to learn Louis’ body as if it was an extension of his own. Louis arched his back and looped his arms around Harry’s neck, not bothering to stifle his moans.

Harry’s necklace swung back and forth with every thrust, pooling in Louis’ collarbones as their hips drove together, and Louis squeezed his eyes shut, Harry’s gaze too intense, Harry’s movements too hot.

He gripped the necklace in one hand, threading his fingers through the barely there curls at the bottom of Harry’s hairline in the other, and his entire body twitched when Harry rocked up against that perfect spot.

“There, Harry,  _ fuck. _ ”

Harry didn’t answer. Still bracketing Louis’ body, he bent down to kiss Louis’ jaw, and Louis could feel his lips trembling against his sweat slicked skin. “You’re perfect,” Harry murmured, thrusts speeding up. “I’m so fucking crazy about you. Can’t stand how good you are for me, can’t take how incredible you always feel.”

Louis whined high in his throat, unable to feel embarrassed. “Feels really fucking good, H. Always…” He moaned at a particularly hard thrust. “Always fuck me just right. Best I ever had, I swear to God.”

Harry’s movements stuttered at that. “Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”

“Not lying.” He panted into Harry’s chest, letting go of the necklace in favor of gripping his shoulders. “You make me forget about anyone I’ve ever been with.”

“Don’t talk about other people that you’ve slept with while I’m fucking you.”

Louis forced out a snort at that. “You can’t be jealous of other people that I’ve slept with while you’re literally inside of me.”

“I can be jealous of whatever I want. I told you, I’m obsessed with you.” Harry closed his eyes, breathing choppy, and Louis could tell he was close. “And you’re mine now, right?”

He let go of Harry’s shoulder and reached down to pull himself off. “Yours. All yours,” he choked out.

It didn’t take much longer for either of them to come, Harry holding Louis tightly, Louis clenching down even tighter, and Louis fell asleep listening to the steady sound of Harry’s heartbeat.  
  
  
  
Harry asked Louis to make their relationship “officially official” - Harry’s words, not Louis’ - less than a month later, and three months after that, he was deployed to Afghanistan for four months.

Anything and everything from then on became routine.

Usually, it's great. Right now, it isn't.

 

* * *

_  
April 30 _

_ H, _

_ I take it back. Zoe hasn’t forgotten you. She still only curls up on your sweatshirt, still sits under your chair at the table, looking for scraps. (You need to stop doing that.) _

_ I’m sorry you’re going through a tough time, babe. But I’m going to have to frame that letter. I was pissed, at first, that you made me cry in front of Niall - he was there when the mail came - but then I wanted to curl up and die because I miss you so much and you are always too fucking sweet, even when you’re not trying to be. _

_ You are gonna get so laid the second you get home. _

_ You know, after you watch that drunk video of me doing karaoke. A promise is a promise. _

_ I’m not great with words and you know that, but I read a poem (I know, shut up) that made me think of us for whenever we’re struggling to get through these last couple of months together: “Wherever you go, the sky is the same color.” _

_ You’re out there, I’m out there, and we’re both looking at the very same sky. _

___Just 44 more days. That’s it._  
  


_ I love you. _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
May 6 _

_ H, _

_ You didn’t call me for our last phone call, and I know I told you to sometimes call your family but I take it back. I missed your voice. _

_ I actually went out to lunch with Gemma a week and a half ago. We went to that new place, Mango. I’m not sure if you know about it yet? Anyway, it took the place of the old chip factory on River Drive, and it opened right after your birthday. You’ll love it there. It has, like, 8,000 fruit smoothie combinations. _

_ Apparently, James got the lead in his school play. I’m not sure what kind of play a group of 5-year-olds can put on, but Gemma said he’s  _ very _ excited and has been talking her ear off about it since he landed the role. I’m sure it’s more or less just a couple of songs in their classroom, but still. I’ll go and record the whole thing for you. I guess his first question was, “Will Uncle Harry be back in time?” Unfortunately, it’s the first week of June, so you’ll just miss it, but we promised him that you can watch videos of it when you come home. _

_ Oh God. That means I’ll have to watch it twice… Yikes. _

_ I’m super busy with trying to finish up some end of the year lesson plans, though, so I’ll save the rest of whatever I have to tell you for our phone call. _

_ Don’t forget about me this time. _

_ 38 days! It’s getting close, babe. _

_  
Love you, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
May 14 _

_ H, _

_ Okay. So. You didn’t call for our last phone call “appointment” either. And I haven’t received a letter for a while. I’m trying not to freak out because I know if something had happened, someone would have called me. You’re not injured. You can’t be. Someone would have contacted me. _

_ Right? _

_ Whatever’s going on, I hope you’re okay. _

_ I love you. _

___30 days._  
  


_ L _

 

* * *

  
The letter gets dropped off at the post office around 5 o’clock, and Louis receives The Call less than an hour later.  
  
  
  
He’s sitting at Anne’s house, trying not to panic more than he needs to, but it’s a lost cause. He feels like he’s drowning and there’s not a single lifeguard around.

His hands are shaking convulsively as he asks, “What was the message you got?”

Anne wrings her hands together, face blotchy and red. “Um.” The waver in her voice is almost tangible and Louis  _ hates _ it. “That on April 26, Harry had been inside of a building that collapsed and by the time they were able to bring him out…” She stops talking, can’t say the rest of the words, and Louis can’t blame her.

“He was unconscious,” Robin finishes, his own demeanor wary. “And that both of his lungs had collapsed when the building’s walls fell down onto him.”

“He’s already had four surgeries,” Louis says, rubbing his eyes. “Four. They waited 18 days and four surgeries to let any of us fucking know that he’s in critical condition. I am so fucking disgusted.” He really means that he’s so fucking scared, but anger is easier to play into. “Why didn’t anyone tell us?!”

“They told us they didn’t know how serious it was,” Robin answers, clearly not believing that for a minute.

“His  _ lungs _ had  _ collapsed, _ ” Louis says in disbelief. “Of  _ course _ it’s fucking serious.” He starts crying again, hasn’t stopped, really since he got the call three hours ago. “Tell me I’m crazy to fly there. I need to go make sure he’s okay. He needs someone there.”

Anne bites down on her bottom lip. “Baby, we don’t even know where he  _ is. _ And even if we did, who knows if they would let us see him.”

“Anne, I can’t sit here when I know he’s… When he isn’t okay and he’s all alone and he…” He can’t form a thought, can’t spit out what he’s really thinking. It’s too much. Instead, he gets off his spot from the armchair and squeezes in next to Anne, putting his head on her shoulder.

No one else speaks for a long time.

 

* * *

_  
May 17 _

_ My soldier boy, _

_ I’m gonna keep writing to you, okay? I want you to have lots of letters for when you wake up and you’re healthy and you’re ready to come home. _

_ Let’s just try to talk about normal stuff (which seems ridiculous but I’m going to try). _

_ We had a massive thunderstorm here today. It knocked out the power for nearly four hours and the one thing you never taught me how to use was the generator. So I just sat there with Zoe and prayed that none of the food in the fridge would spoil. _

_ When you come home, teach me how to use the generator, seeing as I’m the one who actually bought it in the first place. _

_ I tried to make fried raviolis last night. I’ve never been one to cook or bake when I’m stressed - that’s all you - but I remembered you saying how much you loved them that one time at Rossi’s, so I wanted to learn as a surprise for you. H, they came out like shit. I took one bite and immediately threw them in the trash, and then I actually felt bad for the garbage can. Because that’s how gross they were. Aren’t deep fried things supposed to be crunchy on the outside and soft and hot on the inside? How was it the opposite?! They were soft and mushy on the outside and rock hard on the inside. What the fuck. _

_ I’ll keep trying. _

_ But you have to keep trying, too. You have to get healthy and be strong and come home to me. I know you’re not doing okay right now, but that’s not the Harry I know. You will be on your feet in no time. _

_ Promise me you will. Please promise me. _

_ You have no idea how much I love you. _

___27 days._  
  


_ Love, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
May 25 _

_ My soldier boy, _

_ I just got off the phone with some guy named Dan. I think he’s the one who called me originally to tell me you were in the ICU. But I can’t be sure. I kinda think I blacked out for most of that conversation. _

_ This time, he told me even more shit news, and I was such a dick to him, H. When you wake up, apologize for me. You know how I am under stress. _

_ Dan said that you need to be transported to another hospital - a better one. But. You’re not stable enough for the move, and you haven’t shown any signs of improvement. Harry, I need you to focus and wake the fuck up and start breathing on your own. They’re only giving you 48 hours until you need another surgery and they can’t do it at the hospital you’re at. _

_ Baby. Just. I’m losing my damn mind at the idea of greeting a folded American flag at the front door instead of you in your uniform. _

_ Fuck, I am so damn  _ pissed _ at you, Harry. You told me you would be careful and that I would see you June 13. There’s no way in hell that’s happening. I’m shaking mad. You weren’t safe enough and now I have to sit at your mom’s house, listening to her cry on the phone to whoever asks how you’re doing and it isn’t fucking fair, Harry. It isn’t fair that I have to think about funeral arrangements in case you don’t get better and I don’t even know what kind of service you want. We never talked about it. I can’t fucking do it. _

_ Why didn’t we talk about it? Did we really think we were that invincible? My God, I feel so fucking stupid. _

_ I haven’t heard your terrible voice in too long and I haven’t read your horrible words in even longer. Don’t make me plan your funeral, especially when you were so close to the finish line and you were nearly out of the woods. _

_ I need to hear your voice. It’s my favorite sound. _

_ 19 days. I’m supposed to see you in 19 days. _

__  
_Always in my heart._  
_  
_ ___L_

 

* * *

_  
June 2 _

_ My sweet soldier boy, _

_ Apparently, you could feel my rage from the other side of the world because you  _ fucking woke up _ after 33 hours. They called me immediately to let me know and I don’t think I’ve ever instantly started crying that hard in my entire life. I was at school when I got the call and I’m pretty sure half of my class is afraid to come near me now. _

_ But that’s okay. _

_ You woke up - only for 20 minutes, but that’s enough - and that was the improvement they were waiting for to be able to transport you to that better hospital. You’ve been there for a couple of days already and you went through yet another surgery. Dan said you’re not healing as quickly as they would have hoped for, but there are tiny signs of progress, and that’s okay with me. Any step forward is a step forward, right? It counts. We’re making it count. _

_ I’m so sorry you can’t talk, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you’d damaged your vocal cords during this whole ordeal. The doctor told me that, in time, they’ll heal on their own, but for now, even if you try to talk, nothing will come out. That breaks my heart, but that just means you have to work harder to get better so I can hear you speak again. The world is a better place when you’re telling horrible jokes or singing in that high-pitched voice I always tell you I hate. _

_ I lied. I really love it. _

_ Relief. That’s the only word on my mind right now. I wake up feeling like I can breathe, knowing you’re in and out of consciousness, instead of being completely unconscious 24/7. Dan told me you wiggled your hand the other day, and did so without wincing. And that broke my heart all over again, because I idiotically hadn’t even  _ thought _ that you might be in a lot of pain right now. But I guess your injuries were so severe, that the pain meds can’t relieve everything. _

_ Fuck. I hate that. I don’t want you to be suffering. _

___I don’t want to do a countdown anymore, because I know you won’t be home in 11 days. So I’ll just leave you with I’ll see you soon._  
  


_ I love you, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
June 8 _

_ My boy, _

_ Yesterday was phenomenal. We had field day at school and all of the kids were complete terrors. It was fantastic. I love watching the older teachers get bent out of shape when their students run around like a bunch of lunatics. Come on, Marge from room 302, let them be free. Let them play dodgeball and tug-of-war and dump water all over themselves and scream themselves hoarse during the mile run. _

_ Ahh, the American public education system. _

_ I took a class photo with them so you can see all my kiddos, sweaty and in their element. _

_ Also, I’m sending a giant envelope stuffed with get well soon cards from them. Hannah’s totally made me bawl (I don’t play favorites, what are you talking about…) and so did Lily’s. Her dad is overseas, too. You might want to save hers for last. It’s a hard one to get through. He won’t be home for another six months, and he’s already been gone for about a year. _

_ Dan called again today, and told me you’re awake more than you’re asleep. That’s a double edged sword. Awake is great because it means you’re healing! And I’m so proud of you. But. It also means you’re conscious and can feel more pain. _

_ I’m sorry, H. I’m so sorry. _

___Five days, it should be. It won’t be. But maybe something beautiful will happen then, instead._  
  


_ I love you, _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
June 15 _

_ My boy, _

_ Happy anniversary, love. Four years. I can’t believe I’ve been putting up with your ugly face for four years. Even more amazingly, I can’t believe you’ve been putting up with  _ mine.

_ I’d bought you an actual anniversary present a few months back, because you’re supposed to be home already. But the sight of it pisses me off so I put it away for you to open another day. _

_ Besides. The gift you gave me today just blew your present out of the damn water. _

_ I feel kind of dumb writing a letter to you explaining the events of what just happened, not even a full hour prior, but the doctor said the meds you’re on make you a bit loopy, so you might have some memory loss. _

_ And I don’t want you to forget. I don’t want you to forget how proud you just made me, how much I love you. _

_ Dan called on my way home from work and said you were more alert than you had been since the day you were brought in, and while that’s excellent, you weren’t acting like the Harry he trained with for months. He said you seemed depressed, understandably, and he had an idea to boost you up a little bit. _

_ Dan told me that it’s hard to get better when you feel so isolated, when you feel like no one’s there, and I told him I wished there was something I could do to help. _

_ He said there was. _

_ I know you didn’t get to talk back during our phone call, but knowing it made  _ you _ feel better made  _ me _ feel better. For the rest of my life, I will never forget whispering into the phone, “Hi, H,” and hearing one of nurses exclaim, “Aw, Harry, love, don’t cry, it’s your Louis!” _

_ I talked to you for half an hour, telling you about our families and work and how happy I was to know that you were doing so much better. I told you how worried I’d been, but I tried to keep my voice fairly even, so I wouldn’t set you off. Did I do okay? The nurses said I did, but you know me better than they do. _

_ I could hear you breathing throughout the entire conversation, and that was my most favorite part. You have lungs and they’re working, and my God, it’s a fucking miracle. _

_ Just before I hung up, I told you I couldn’t wait to see you and kiss your ugly face, and I heard one of the nurses say, “Harry, easy, don’t laugh too much, love.” That got me crying (I’m really easy to make cry, these days) and I paused to listen as you tried to communicate with the nurses again. It took a lot of mouthing and spelling out words, but I heard your message loud and clear, before the nurse even dictated for you. _

_ “Louis? Harry asked us to tell you happy anniversary.” _

_ I hadn't even told you what the date is. You just… Fucking remembered. Christ. _

___You didn’t get to speak, but that’s all I needed to hear, anyway._  
  


_ Happy anniversary. You are the love of my life. _

_ L _

 

* * *

_  
June 17 _

_ My very favorite soldier boy, _

_ I had such high hopes after our phone call, but so much can happen in just two days. _

_ When I heard my phone going off about 4 AM my time, I knew. I knew it was Dan or a doctor or someone connected to you calling me, and I didn’t want to answer. They’re always aware of the time difference, never calling unless it’s convenient for all of us. _

_ This obviously wasn’t a convenient time. And I had to hold back my scream before I answered the call. _

_ Harry, you have the absolute worst luck in the world. Remember when we first started dating and you locked your fucking car keys  _ in _ the car right before you were supposed to come pick me up and I thought you stood me up? Or how about the time we went out to eat at that Mexican place with Niall and Zayn and the three of us got steak but you just  _ had _ to be different and get chicken, and you were the only one to get food poisoning?  _ Or _ remember the time you won backstage passes to that Coldplay concert but when you called the radio station, they said they gave them away because you called three minutes too late? _

_ You’ve always had back luck. And now is no exception. _

_ They don’t know how you contracted the infection, but it’s made you super weak and they can’t bring down your fever. The term they used was ‘spiraling,’ which is what I feel like I’m doing right now, too. The doctor said most of the progress you made over the past few weeks has been erased, and in his professional opinion, he thinks I should get my goodbye’s in. _

_ I told him no. I was very adamant I wasn’t saying goodbye because this isn’t the end for you, for us. You are strong and smart and perfect. _

_ How many times do I have to keep repeating myself, saying those words? It’s like, the more I say it, the more I hope it’ll resonate, somehow. As if the infection will say, “No, you’re right, Louis, he  _ is _ strong. Let’s move on to someone else.” _

_ I can’t believe I didn’t say goodbye. What if that was my last time to ever talk to you again? Even if you couldn’t speak back, at least I could have heard you breathing, or knew you were on the other line. At least you could have heard me and knew that I was there for you, always there for you. _

_ I hope this wasn’t my own bad luck, losing the last chance I’ll ever have to talk to you. _

_ Fuck. _

_  
I love you, H. I love you so much. _

_  
_ _ L _

 

* * *

_  
July 12 _

_ Love of my life, _

_ 210 days. That’s how long it’s been since the last time we saw each other. _

_ Well. How long it  _ had _ been. _

_ Coming back to the States… I never thought it would be this way. I never imagined this is how it would all play out. _

_ Please don’t make fun of me when I say I haven’t stopped crying once. _

_ I’m still so in love with you. I will never stop. Bold statement, I know. _

_ But it’s the only thing I’m sure of. _

_ Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about a thousand unread letters from you, and I’m going to climb into bed and read them next to you. _

_ I’ll try to stop crying, really. _

___On second thought, maybe I'll save them for another day. I’d rather talk to the real Louis, touch him, finally just be with him._  
  


_ All my love, _

_ Your soldier boy _

 

* * *

  
Louis pulls the blankets all the way up to his chin, body wracked with chills even though it’s about 85 degrees outside. He watches Harry walk into the room slowly, placing an envelope onto their bureau. He doesn’t ask. His entire body relaxes once Harry slides in next to him, movements still a little shaky, wincing when he bends down to pull his own blankets up.

He reaches for Harry’s hand underneath the sheets, tangling their fingers together. He leans into Harry, careful not to press against any deep bruises. “Telling you I’m happy to have you home seems like the biggest understatement in the world.”

He can feel Harry swallow above him. “I’m sorry it took so long to get me home.”

Louis snorts, still trying to get used to how different Harry’s voice sounds. It’s supposed to go back to normal, but so far, it’s like a stranger’s speaking to him. “You could have taken another year if it meant you got to come home in one piece. Alive.”

“‘m alive.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” He tries and fails not to cry - has been crying for weeks - and it’s seemed to get worse since Harry touched down yesterday evening. But Harry hasn’t really stopped crying, either, so he feels okay about it.

They’re mostly happy tears. Just positively relieved to have Harry home safe and happy and healing remarkably well. However, there’s still a lot of fear.

Fear that Harry’s body will give up, even though he’s been doing remarkably well and his doctors there, as well as here, say they have nothing to worry about. Fear that Harry will start suffering from the night terrors that typically accompany him when he comes back from serving. Fear that Louis won’t be able to fix anything.

But for now, it’s all okay. And  _ that _ is what he’s trying to focus on.

“What time do you have physical therapy tomorrow?” Louis asks.

“I believe they scheduled me for 11:00. You wanna come?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Yay,” Harry murmurs, kissing the top of Louis’ head. “Wanna turn the light out? I can’t stretch that far.”

“Sure.” He leans over Harry to twist the light switch, and then remembers something in the nightstand. “Hey, there’s actually something I have for you.”

“Mmm? What?”

Louis reaches into the drawer and pulls out a small box and a card. He clears his throat. “Happy anniversary, a month late.”

Harry smiles, and Louis loves that dimple so, so much. “Lou. You really didn’t have to.”

“Shut up and open it.”

The smile grows. “K.”

Louis watches as Harry carefully tears open the card. He pulls it out of its envelope and reads it out loud.

“Happy anniversary. We finally have all the time in the world together, and now, it’s enough.” He looks at Louis, eyes confused.

“Open the rest, Styles.”

He tears the wrapping paper off the gift, wrapping that Louis taped together back in April, and he will never admit how satisfied he is when Harry tears up once the watch is revealed.

“We  _ do _ have all the time in the world together, Jesus,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Come here.”

Louis slides over and wastes no time before kissing him, reminding himself to keep his hands gentle and steady as to not touch places that are still sore.

They move slowly, Louis mostly in charge, tasting Harry, having had missed it for so, so long. Harry drags his hands up and down Louis’ back, digging his nails in every so often, and Louis has to remind himself that they won’t - can’t - be doing  _ anything _ rough for a really long time.

Fuck.

He breaks the contact and moves down to kiss along Harry’s jaw, up his neck, and that’s when Harry breaks.

“Okay, we can’t do this, because I’m not gonna be able to fuck you. I can hardly move.”

Louis sits up. “You don’t have to move.”

Harry bites down on his bottom lip. “What are you suggesting?”

He rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off, loving the way Harry immediately becomes more focused. “I’m  _ saying _ that you just look pretty and lay there and I’ll ride you and it’ll take 90 seconds, maximum, because neither of us have had sex in 43,000 years.”

Harry snorts at that but he’s already scrambling to take off his own shirt. “That’s a very specific number.”

Louis opens his mouth to retaliate, but freezes when he sees all of Harry’s scars. New scars, from surgeries and from the weight of the building falling down on top of him. Most of them aren’t even healed all the way over yet, and he wants to cry. He looks up to see Harry watching him intently.

“I’m not gonna break, Lou.”

“But you almost did.” He runs his hands through his hair, not knowing where else to put them.

“I didn’t, though. I’m okay. As long as you don’t, like, kick me in the chest, we should be okay.”

He cracks a smile at that. “So when you’re healed, I can do that?”

“Sure,” he says with the wave of his hand, clearly eager to get things moving.

“Okay, as long as we’re clear.” He’s still uneasy, though, so he takes his time when he pulls Harry’s boxers off.

He’s fully hard already, just from a bit of kissing and grinding, but Louis is in no position to tease. He takes Harry all the way down immediately, Harry’s hands flying into Louis’ hair, and he works over him long enough for Harry’s words to start slurring, his hips jerking, cock blurting out precome into Louis’ mouth.

He sits up, breathing hotly over Harry’s thighs. “Can you get lube? Do you want me to do it?”

Harry shakes his head violently. “No, I wanna get my fingers in you. I’m doing it.”

Louis smirks. “Okay, then get on with it.” And he sinks his mouth back down onto Harry’s cock.

Harry pulls Louis’ own boxers down while he’s still sucking Harry off, wasting no time before he pushes a finger inside, and Louis can’t help himself when he moans around Harry, pushing his hips backward into the feeling. It’s been way too long, he can hardly stand it.

How did he manage to keep his hands to himself after they got home from the airport yesterday? He thinks he might deserve an award, like a medal or a trophy. Unbelievable.

He lets Harry work himself up to three fingers, moving inside him at a pace he thinks might make him stop breathing, until it’s all too much. He pushes Harry’s hand away and settles himself on top of Harry’s thighs, grabbing for the lube on the bed. He slicks up Harry’s cock with way too much lube, not bothering to find a condom, and sinks down slowly, slowly, until he’s taken all of Harry.

“Baby, needed you for so long,” Harry grits out, gripping Louis’ waist, pumping his hips upward, even though there’s no place for him to go.

Louis groans in response, raising himself up and then sinking back down. It’s a lot, but it’s the intensity he’s been missing since last winter.

He loves this so much; loves Harry so much.

It’s not hard to keep up a steady rhythm, but he  _ is _ distracted. He can’t stop staring at Harry’s scars. It’s like a new body underneath him.

He must be fairly obvious because Harry swallows and murmurs, “Lou. They don’t hurt, I swear.”

Louis stops moving, just rocks back and forth a bit, swallowing a moan when Harry’s cock brushes up against his prostate. He could probably come like this. “What if I touched them?”

Harry nods. “You can, if you want to.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, then don’t."   


Louis bites his lip and frowns. He cups Harry’s sides, thumbs brushing against his chest, fingers digging into his back. He gently traces his left thumb along one of the scars. It’s still raised, still new, but it doesn’t feel like much else. He looks down at Harry, who’s staring intently at Louis’ hand on his body. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this.”

Harry meets his gaze. “‘m okay now, right? Just…” He shifts his hips a bit. “You feel so fucking good. Keep going, you’re doing amazing.”

He focuses less on the scars and more on getting both of them off. “Always amazing, don’t have to tell me twice.”

Harry’s hands fly to grip Louis’ waist again. “Lou, I’m already so close. Just need a little more.”

Louis clenches down around Harry, movements quicker now. “Can’t wait until you’re fully healed. Been needing you to fuck me for months. But not like  _ this. _ ” He swivels his hips and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “Want you to fuck into me so hard that all I can do is hang on.”

Harry’s panting is out of control, and Louis knows it’ll take less than a minute for them both to get there. “That’s all I want. But this.” He pauses to grip Louis’ cock and start jerking him roughly, the way Louis likes it best. “This is really fucking good, too.” Louis lets out a choked whine at that, and that seems to do it for Harry. “Come on, baby, let go.”

And Louis does, coming hard, white hot heat surging through him and it lasts so long, he nearly misses Harry’s orgasm.

It takes every ounce of energy he has to lift himself up off of Harry, wincing when he pulls out. He lays beside him, not bothering to find his boxers, and yanks the blankets back up to his chin. “Don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m so glad you’re home.”

Harry reaches for Louis hand and kisses his palm. “Home.”

Louis sleeps better than he has in almost half a year.

 

* * *

  
About 12 days prior to Harry’s return, Louis spent the better part of two days panicking, completely stunned that he was going to lose Harry, unable to wrap his mind around it. Sleep wasn’t an option, nor was food, so that left a lot of time for him to pace the house, walking around with Harry’s clothes, folding and refolding, pretending like he was going to walk through the door at any minute.

On the third day, he got a call from Dan, saying Harry was stable, but not to get his hopes up, and Louis rearranged their bedroom, desperate to keep his hands and mind busy.

On the fourth day, Harry’s fever had gone done, but he was still completely uncommunicative. Louis repainted the master bathroom.

By the seventh day, Dan reported that Harry had surprised them all and made remarkable progress.  _ So _ remarkable, in fact, that he was on track to be okay to come home by mid-July, if all things kept up. And there was truly no reason behind it, other than Harry finally found his streak of luck. Louis celebrated by purchasing a new kitchen set and putting the whole thing together himself.

He received no news or calls for about five days after that - the doctor said he would call only with bad news - and Louis was relieved, but the radio silence was driving him absolutely insane. He was trying to talk himself down from building a fucking tree house for Gemma’s son when his phone rang at noon on July 9th.

“Hello?” he asked breathlessly, expecting the worst, bracing himself for one final blow.

Silence. Then: “Hi, baby.”

“Oh my God, Harry?!” He gripped the back of the couch, thinking he could probably pass out, or throw up, or both.

“Lou.” His voice was rough, raspy, and he was quieter than usual, but it was  _ Harry. _

“Oh my God. Oh my  _ God. _ ”

“I know. How are you?”

He choked. “A lot better  _ now, _ fuck.”

He listened as Harry sniffled through the phone, obviously failing to hold back tears. “Do you think you would feel even better if I came home tomorrow?”

All he could hear was the sound of rushing in his ears. “Are you serious? Harry, are you fucking serious?”

Harry cried harder. “Yeah, I’m serious. Will you pick me up tomorrow? I’ll be home around dinner.”

“Oh my God.”

“Can you say something other than that?”

“No, I can’t, but yes I’ll get you, oh my God.” He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears slip out. Christ, it’s endless. “I missed you so much, Harry. You have no idea, you really have no idea.”

“I think I do.” His voice came out even raspier. “I need to get some stuff taken care of first before I leave, so I need to get going, okay? I just wanted to be the one to tell you I was coming home.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Christ, Harry. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh my God.”

Harry let out a weak laugh. “I’m assuming my family already got the call that I’ll be coming home, but can you call them, anyway, to let them know?”

“Believe me, I’ll be calling  _ everyone _ to let them know.”

Another laugh. “I love you.”

He whined at that. “I love you, too, solider.”  
  
  
  
Louis stood at airport security, dizzy with how excited and scared he was to see Harry. He knew how much physical and emotional trauma he’d been through, more than he’d ever gone through before, and Louis was scared to handle that.

He felt like he stood there, waiting for hours, when it was probably no more than 20 minutes, tops. And when Harry’s plane finally landed, Louis was sure he was about to combust, right there on the spot.

His eyes searched frantically for his soldier boy, heart in his throat, stomach clenched, and when he finally saw him, being pushed forward in a wheelchair, the tears in his eyes made Harry look blurry, like he was underwater.

Louis forced himself not to run, but failed fairly quickly, nearly knocking over civilians in the process, desperate to get his hands on Harry to prove he was really there, really in front of him.

Harry’s own eyes were swimming with tears when he locked his gaze with Louis’, dark circles under his eyes purple and green, hair a disaster from underneath his hat, and entire body much, much skinnier than how he left Louis back in December.

He looked so beautiful.

Louis was close enough, now, to hear Harry say to the man pushing him, “You can stop. This is my boy.” And when Harry put his arms out, Louis practically dove into them.

It felt so good, so unbearably perfect, to feel Harry’s arms around him after so long, after so much. Louis gripped at his uniform, the rough material feeling safe for once, and he let Harry rub his hands up and down his back, croaking out, “I’m here. I’m never leaving again.”

“‘m not letting you,” Louis whispered, his own voice unfamiliar.

Harry sat back, holding Louis’ face between his hands. He kissed his forehead, cheeks, eyelids, nose, and finished on the lips. It was a terrible kiss - lips chapped, both crying, both out of breath - but it was the best one Louis had ever received.

Louis pulled away. “Should I even be sitting on you? Like, are you okay? You’re in a fucking wheelchair and I just take over like I have any idea…”

Harry smiled. “I don’t really need it. They just figured it would be easier.” He winced. “They were probably right.”

Shit. Louis got up quickly. “Sorry, H. I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine, baby. I promise.”

Louis nodded. “I’m so fucking happy to see you.”

“Me, too, Lou.”

“Hey, I really wanna get you home, but I do have something for you before we go anywhere.”

“What?”

Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I, uh, have that video of me singing drunk karaoke. You promised you would come home and I promised I would record this for you, and would show you first thing when you got back.”

Harry’s eyes filled up with tears again. “A promise is a promise.”

“Yes,” Louis said, swallowing the lump in his throat, hitting play on the phone. “A promise is a promise.”


End file.
